When I offered lunch to a soaking-wet little girl outside the grocery store, I figured I was doing the simple, instinctive thing any former teacher would do—help a child who looked cold, hungry, and very much alone.
But two days later, when someone knocked on my front door, I realized our meeting was not an accident. It was the beginning of something much bigger.
I’m Grace—57, retired, and living alone now that my two grown daughters have families of their own. My days are peaceful but quiet… sometimes too quiet after a lifetime of first-grade classrooms filled with energy and noise. So when I see a child who looks like they need help, that old teacher instinct kicks in immediately.
It happened on a chilly, rainy afternoon. I’d just left my yearly check-up and stopped by the grocery store to pick up ingredients for soup. As I wheeled my cart toward the exit, I noticed her: a little girl standing just outside the doors, rain dripping off her hair, jacket soaked through, clutching a stuffed cat that looked as soggy as she was.
People walked past her with that hurried “I hope someone else handles this” expression, but I couldn’t. Her eyes kept scanning the crowd, hopeful and anxious all at once.
Continue reading on next page…